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BRET  HARTE 

THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP 

THE  OUTCASTS  OF  POKER    FLAT 

TENNESSEE'S  PARTNER 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

THE  BOOK  CLUB  OF  CALIFORNIA 
MDCCCCXVI 


PRINTED  BY  ARRANGEMENT 

WITH  HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

AUTHORIZED  PUBLISHERS 


THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP 


THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP 

THERE  was  commotion  in  Roaring 
Camp.  It  could  not  have  been  a 
fight,  for  in  1850  that  was  not  novel 
enough  to  have  called  together  the  entire 
settlement.  The  ditches  and  claims  were  not 
only  deserted,  but  "Turtle's  grocery"  had 
contributed  its  gamblers,  who,  it  will  be  re 
membered,  calmly  continued  their  game 
the  day  that  French  Pete  and  Kanaka  Joe 
shot  each  other  to  death  over  the  bar  in  the 
front  room.  The  whole  camp  was  collected 
before  a  rude  cabin  on  the  outer  edge  of  the 
clearing.  Conversation  was  carried  on  in  a 
low  tone, but  the  name  of  a  woman  was  fre 
quently  repeated.  It  was  a  name  familiar 
enough  in  the  camp, — "Cherokee  Sal." 


BRET  HARTE 

Perhaps  the  less  said  of  her  the  better.  She 
was  a  coarse  and,  it  is  to  be  feared,  a  very  sin 
ful  woman.  But  at  that  time  she  was  the  only 
woman  in  Roaring  Camp,  and  was  just  then 
lying  in  sore  extremity,  when  she  most  need 
ed  the  ministration  of  her  own  sex.  Disso 
lute,  abandoned,  and  irreclaimable,  she  was 
yet  suffering  a  martyrdom  hard  enough  to 
bear  even  when  veiled  by  sympathizing 
womanhood,  but  now  terrible  in  her  loneli 
ness.  The  primal  curse  had  come  to  her  in 
that  original  isolation  which  must  have  made 
the  punishment  of  the  first  transgression  so 
dreadful.  It  was,  perhaps,  part  of  the  expia 
tion  of  her  sin  that,  at  a  moment  when  she 
most  lacked  her  sex's  intuitive  tenderness  and 
care,  she  met  only  the  half-contemptuous 
faces  of  her  masculine  associates.  Yet  a  few 
of  the  spectators  were,  I  think,  touched  by 
her  sufferings.  Sandy  Tipton  thought  it  was 
"rough  on  Sal,"  and,  in  the  contemplation 
of  her  condition,  for  a  moment  rose  superior 
to  the  fact  that  he  had  an  ace  and  two  bowers 
in  his  sleeve. 

It  will  be  seen  also  that  the  situation  was 
novel.  Deaths  were  by  no  means  uncommon 


THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP 

in  Roaring  Camp,but  a  birth  was  a  new  thing. 
People  had  been  dismissed  the  camp  effec 
tively,  finally,  and  with  no  possibility  of  re 
turn  ;  but  this  was  the  first  time  that  anybody 
had  been  introduced  ab  initio.  Hence  the  ex 
citement. 

"You  go  in  there,  Stumpy,"  said  a  promi 
nent  citizen  known  as  "Kentuck,"  address 
ing  one  of  the  loungers.  "Go  in  there,  and 
see  what  you  kin  do.  You've  had  experi 
ence  in  them  things." 

Perhaps  there  was  a  fitness  in  the  selection. 
Stumpy,  in  other  climes,  had  been  the  puta 
tive  head  of  two  families;  in  fa  61,  it  was  owing 
to  some  legal  informality  in  these  proceed 
ings  that  Roaring  Camp — a  city  of  refuge — 
was  indebted  to  his  company.  The  crowd 
approved  the  choice,  and  Stumpy  was  wise 
enough  to  bow  to  the  majority.  The  door 
closed  on  the  extempore  surgeon  and  mid 
wife,  and  Roaring  Camp  sat  down  outside, 
smoked  its  pipe,  and  awaited  the  issue. 

The  assemblage  numbered  about  a  hun 
dred  men.  One  or  two  of  these  were  actual 
fugitives  from  justice,  some  were  criminal, 
and  all  were  reckless.  Physically  they  ex- 


BRET  HARTE 

hibited  no  indication  of  their  past  lives  and 
character.  The  greatest  scamp  had  a  Raphael 
face,  with  a  profusion  of  blonde  hair;  Oak- 
hurst,  a  gambler,  had  the  melancholy  air  and 
intellectual  abstraction  of  a  Hamlet ;  the  cool 
est  and  most  courageous  man  was  scarcely 
over  five  feet  in  height,  with  a  soft  voice  and 
an  embarrassed,  timid  manner.  The  term 
"roughs"  applied  to  them  was  a  distinction 
rather  than  a  definition.  Perhaps  in  the  minor 
details  of  fingers,  toes,  ears,  etc.,  the  camp 
may  have  been  deficient,  but  these  slight 
omissions  did  not  detract  from  their  aggre 
gate  force.  The  strongest  man  had  but  three 
fingers  on  his  right  hand;  the  best  shot  had 
but  one  eye. 

Such  was  the  physical  aspect  of  the  men 
that  were  dispersed  around  the  cabin.  The 
camp  lay  in  a  triangular  valley  between  two 
hills  and  a  river.  The  only  outlet  was  a  steep 
trail  over  the  summit  of  a  hill  that  faced  the 
cabin,  now  illuminated  by  the  rising  moon. 
The  suffering  woman  might  have  seen  it 
from  the  rude  bunk  whereon  she  lay,— seen 
it  winding  like  a  silver  thread  until  it  was 
lost  in  the  stars  above. 


THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP 

A  fire  of  withered  pine  boughs  added  so 
ciability  to  the  gathering.  By  degrees  the 
natural  levity  of  Roaring  Camp  returned. 
Bets  were  freely  offered  and  taken  regarding 
the  result.  Three  to  five  that  "Sal  would  get 
through  with  it ";  even  that  the  child  would 
survive;  side  bets  as  to  the  sex  and  complex 
ion  of  the  coming  stranger.  In  the  midst  of 
an  excited  discussion  an  exclamation  came 
from  those  nearest  the  door,  and  the  camp 
stopped  to  listen.  Above  the  swaying  and 
moaning  of  the  pines,  the  swift  rush  of  the 
river,  and  the  crackling  of  the  fire  rose  a 
sharp,  querulous  cry, — a  cry  unlike  anything 
heard  before  in  the  camp.  The  pines  stopped 
moaning,  the  river  ceased  to  rush,  and  the 
fire  to  crackle.  It  seemed  as  if  Nature  had 
stopped  to  listen  too. 

The  camp  rose  to  its  feet  as  one  man!  It 
was  proposed  to  explode  a  barrel  of  gunpow 
der ;  but  in  consideration  of  the  situation  of 
the  mother,  better  counsels  prevailed,  and 
only  a  few  revolvers  were  discharged;  for 
whether  owing  to  the  rude  surgery  of  the 
camp,  or  some  other  reason,  Cherokee  Sal 
was  sinking  fast.  Within  an  hour  she  had 


BRET  HARTE 

climbed,  as  it  were,  that  rugged  road  that  led 
to  the  stars,  and  so  passed  out  of  Roaring 
Camp,  its  sin  and  shame,  forever.  I  do  not 
think  that  the  announcement  disturbed  them 
much,  except  in  speculation  as  to  the  fate  of 
the  child.  "Can  he  live  now?"  was  asked  of 
Stumpy.  The  answer  was  doubtful.  The  only 
other  being  of  Cherokee  Sal's  sex  and  ma 
ternal  condition  in  the  settlement  was  an  ass. 
There  was  some  conjecture  as  to  fitness,  but 
the  experiment  was  tried.  It  was  less  prob 
lematical  than  the  ancient  treatment  of  Rom 
ulus  and  Remus,  and  apparently  as  successful . 
When  these  details  were  completed,  which 
exhausted  another  hour,  the  door  was  opened, 
and  the  anxious  crowd  of  men,  who  had  al 
ready  formed  themselves  into  a  queue,  en 
tered  in  single  file.  Beside  the  low  bunk  or 
shelf,  on  which  the  figure  of  the  mother  was 
starkly  outlined  below  the  blankets,  stood  a 
pine  table.  On  this  a  candle-box  was  placed, 
and  within  it,  swathed  in  staring  red  flannel, 
lay  the  last  arrival  at  Roaring  Camp.  Beside 
the  candle-box  was  placed  a  hat.  Its  use  was 
soon  indicated.  "Gentlemen/ 'said Stumpy, 
with  a  singular  mixture  of  authority  and  ex 

8 


THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP 

officio  complacency, — "Gentlemen  will  please 
pass  in  at  the  front  door,  round  the  table,  and 
out  at  the  back  door.  Them  as  wishes  to  con 
tribute  anything  toward  the  orphan  will  find 
a  hat  handy."  The  first  man  entered  with 
his  hat  on;  he  uncovered,  however,  as  he 
looked  about  him,  and  so  unconsciously  set 
an  example  to  the  next.  In  such  communi 
ties  good  and  bad  actions  are  catching.  As 
the  procession  filed  in  comments  were  audi 
ble,— criticisms  addressed  perhaps  rather  to 
Stumpy  in  the  character  of  showman:  "Is 
that  him?"  "Mighty  small  specimen;" 
"Hasn't  more'n  got  the  color;"  "Ain't  big 
ger  nor  a  derringer ."  The  contributions  were 
as  characteristic:  a  silver  tobacco  box;  a  doub 
loon;  a  navy  revolver, silver  mounted;  a  gold 
specimen;  a  very  beautifully  embroidered 
lady's  handkerchief  (from  Oakhurst  the  gam 
bler)  ;  a  diamond  breastpin;  a  diamond  ring 
(suggested  by  the  pin,  with  the  remark  from 
the  giver  that  he  "saw  that  pin  and  went  two 
diamonds  better");  a  slung-shot;  a  Bible 
(contributor  not  detected) ;  a  golden  spur;  a 
silver  teaspoon  (the  initials,  I  regret  to  say, 
were  not  the  giver's);  a  pair  of  surgeon's 


BRET  HARTE 

shears;  a  lancet;  a  Bank  of  England  note  for 
^"5;  and  about  $200  in  loose  gold  and  sil 
ver  coin.  During  these  proceedings  Stumpy 
maintained  a  silence  as  impassive  as  the  dead 
on  his  left,  a  gravity  as  inscrutable  as  that  of 
the  newly  born  on  his  right.  Only  one  inci 
dent  occurred  to  break  the  monotony  of  the 
curious  procession.  As  Kentuckbent  over  the 
candle-box  half  curiously,  the  child  turned, 
and,  in  a  spasm  of  pain,  caught  at  his  grop 
ing  finger,  and  held  it  fast  for  a  moment. 
Kentuck  looked  foolish  and  embarrassed. 
Something  like  a  blush  tried  to  assert  itself 
in  his  weather-beaten  cheek.  "The  d — d  lit 
tle  cuss ! "  he  said,  as  he  extricated  his  finger, 
with  perhaps  more  tenderness  and  care  than 
he  might  havebeen  deemed  capable  of  show 
ing.  He  held  that  finger  a  little  apart  from 
its  fellows  as  he  went  out,  and  examined  it 
curiously.  The  examination  provoked  the 
same  original  remark  in  regard  to  the  child. 
In  fact, he  seemed  to  enjoy  repeating  it.  "  He 
rastled  with  my  finger,"  he  remarked  to  Tip- 
ton,  holding  up  the  member,  "the  d — d  little 
cuss!" 
It  was  four  o'clock  before  the  camp  sought 

10 


THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP 

repose.  A  light  burnt  in  the  cabin  where  the 
watchers  sat,  for  Stumpy  did  not  go  to  bed 
that  night.  Nor  did  Kentuck.  He  drank 
quite  freely,  and  related  with  great  gusto  his 
experience,  in  variably  ending  with  his  char- 
a<5teristic  condemnation  of  the  newcomer. 
It  seemed  to  relieve  him  of  any  unjust  im 
plication  of  sentiment,  and  Kentuck  had  the 
weaknesses  of  the  nobler  sex.  When  every 
body  else  had  gone  to  bed,  he  walked  down 
to  the  river  and  whistled  refledtingly.  Then 
he  walked  up  the  gulch  past  the  cabin,  still 
whistling  with  demonstrative  unconcern.  At 
a  large  redwood-tree  he  paused  and  retraced 
his  steps,  and  again  passed  the  cabin.  Half 
way  down  to  the  river's  bank  he  again  paused, 
and  then  returned  and  knocked  at  the  door. 
It  was  opened  by  Stumpy.  "How  goes  it?" 
said  Kentuck,  looking  past  Stumpy  toward 
the  candle-box. "All serene! "repliedStumpy. 
"Anything  up?"  "Nothing."  There  was  a 
pause  —  an  embarrassing  one  —  Stumpy  still 
holding  the  door.  Then  Kentuck  had  re 
course  to  his  finger,  which  he  held  up  to 
Stumpy.  "Rastled  with  it,— the  d— d  little 
cuss,"  he  said,  and  retired. 

1 1 


BRET  HARTE 

The  next  day  Cherokee  Sal  had  such  rude 
sepulture  as  Roaring  Camp  afforded.  After 
her  body  had  been  committed  to  the  hillside, 
there  was  a  formal  meeting  of  the  camp  to 
discuss  what  should  be  done  with  her  infant. 
A  resolution  to  adopt  it  was  unanimous  and 
enthusiastic.  But  an  animated  discussion  in 
regard  to  the  manner  and  feasibility  of  pro 
viding  for  its  wants  at  once  sprang  up.  It  was 
remarkable  that  the  argument  partook  of 
none  of  those  fierce  personalities  with  which 
discussions  were  usually  conducted  at  Roar 
ing  Camp.  Tipton  proposed  that  they  should 
send  the  child  to  Red  Dog, — a  distance  of 
forty  miles, — where  female  attention  could 
be  procured.  But  the  unlucky  suggestion  met 
withfierce  and  unanimous  opposition.  It  was 
evident  that  no  plan  which  entailed  parting 
from  their  new  acquisition  would  for  a  mo 
ment  be  entertained.  "Besides,"  said  Tom 
Ryder,  "them  fellows  at  Red  Dog  would 
swap  it,  and  ring  in  somebody  else  on  us." 
A  disbelief  in  the  honesty  of  other  camps 
prevailedat  Roaring  Camp,as  in  otherplaces. 

The  introduction  of  a  female  nurse  in  the 
camp  also  met  with  objection.  It  was  argued 

12 


THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP 

that  no  decent  woman  could  be  prevailed  to 
accept  Roaring  Camp  as  her  home,  and  the 
speaker  urged  that  "they  didn't  want  any 
more  of  the  other  kind."  This  unkind  allu 
sion  to  the  defundt  mother,  harsh  as  it  may 
seem,  was  the  first  spasm  of  propriety, — the 
first  symptom  of  the  camp's  regeneration. 
Stumpy  advanced  nothing.  Perhaps  he  felt 
a  certain  delicacy  in  interfering  with  the  se 
lection  of  a  possible  successor  in  office.  But 
when  questioned,  he  averred  stoutly  that  he 
and  "Jinny" — the  mammal  before  alluded 
to — could  manage  to  rear  the  child.  There 
wassomethingoriginal,independent,andhe- 
roic  about  the  plan  that  pleased  the  camp. 
Stumpy  was  retained.  Certain  articles  were 
sent  for  to  Sacramento.  "Mind,"  said  the 
treasurer,  as  he  pressed  a  bag  of  gold-dust  in 
to  the  expressman's  hand,  "the  best  that  can 
be  got, — lace,  you  know,  and  filigree-work 
and  frills, — d — n  the  cost!" 

Strange  to  say,  the  child  thrived.  Perhaps 
the  invigorating  climate  of  the  mountain 
camp  was  compensation  for  material  defi 
ciencies.  Nature  took  the  foundling  to  her 
broader  breast.  In  that  rare  atmosphere  of 

'3 


BRET  HARTE 

the  Sierra  foot-hills,— that  air  pungent  with 
balsamic  odor,  that  ethereal  cordial  at  once 
bracing  and  exhilarating, —  he  may  have 
found  food  and  nourishment,  or  a  subtle 
chemistry  that  transmuted  ass's  milk  to  lime 
and  phosphorus.  Stumpy  inclined  to  the  be 
lief  that  it  was  the  latter  and  good  nursing. 
"Me  and  that  ass,"  he  would  say,  "has  been 
father  and  mother  to  him!  Don't  you,"  he 
would  add,  apostrophizing  the  helpless  bun 
dle  before  him,  "never  go  back  on  us." 

By  the  time  he  was  a  month  old  the  ne 
cessity  of  giving  him  a  name  became  appar 
ent.  He  had  generally  been  known  as  "The 
Kid,"  "Stumpy's  Boy,"  "The  Coyote"  (an 
allusion  to  his  vocal  powers),  and  even  by 
Kentuck's  endearing  diminutive  of  "The 
d— d  little  cuss."  But  these  were  felt  to  be 
vague  and  unsatisfactory,  and  were  at  last 
dismissed  under  another  influence.  Gamblers 
and  adventurers  are  generally  superstitious, 
and  Oakhurst  one  day  declared  that  the  baby 
had  brought  "the  luck"  to  Roaring  Camp. 
It  was  certain  that  of  late  they  had  been  suc 
cessful.  "Luck"  was  the  name  agreed  upon, 
with  the  prefix  of  Tommy  for  greater  conve- 


THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP 

nience.  No  allusion  was  made  to  the  mother, 
and  the  father  was  unknown.  "It's  better," 
said  the  philosophical  Oakhurst,  "to  take  a 
fresh  deal  all  round.  Call  him  Luck,  and  start 
him  fair."  A  day  was  accordingly  set  apart 
for  the  christening.  What  was  meant  by  this 
ceremony  the  reader  may  imagine  who  has 
already  gathered  some  idea  of  the  reckless 
irreverence  of  Roaring  Camp.  The  master 
of  ceremonies  was  one  "Boston,"  a  noted 
wag,  and  the  occasion  seemed  to  promise  the 
greatest  facetiousness.  This  ingenious  satirist 
had  spent  two  days  in  preparing  a  burlesque 
of  the  Church  service,  with  pointed  local  al 
lusions.  The  choir  was  properly  trained,  and 
Sandy  Tipton  was  to  stand  godfather.  But 
after  the  procession  had  marched  to  the  grove 
with  music  and  banners,  and  the  child  had 
been  deposited  before  a  mock  altar,  Stumpy 
stepped  before  the  expectant  crowd.  "It  ain't 
my  style  to  spoil  fun,  boys,"  said  the  little 
man,  stoutly  eying  the  faces  aroundhim,  "but 
it  strikes  me  that  this  thing  ain't  exactly  on 
the  squar.  It 's  playing  it  pretty  low  down 
on  this  yer  baby  to  ring  in  fun  on  him  that 
he  ain't  goin'  to  understand.  And  ef  there's 

15 


BRET  HARTE 

goin'  to  be  any  godfathers  round,  I'd  like 
to  see  who's  got  any  better  rights  than  me." 
A  silence  followed  Stumpy's  speech.  To  the 
credit  of  all  humorists  be  it  said  that  the  first 
man  to  acknowledge  its  justice  was  the  sat 
irist  thus  stopped  of  his  fun.  "But,"  said 
Stumpy,  quickly  following  up  his  advantage, 
"we  're  here  for  a  christening,  and  we'll  have 
it.  I  proclaim  you  Thomas  Luck,  according 
to  the  laws  of  the  United  States  and  the  State 
of  California,  so  help  me  God."  It  was  the 
first  time  that  the  name  of  the  Deity  had 
been  otherwise  uttered  than  profanely  in  the 
camp.  The  form  of  christening  was  perhaps 
even  moreludicrous  than  the  satirist  had  con 
ceived;  but  strangely  enough,  nobody  saw  it 
and  nobody  laughed.  "Tommy"  was  chris 
tened  as  seriously  as  he  would  have  been  un 
der  a  Christian  roof,  and  cried  and  was  com 
forted  in  as  orthodox  fashion. 

And  so  the  work  of  regeneration  began  in 
Roaring  Camp.  Almost  imperceptibly  a 
change  came  over  the  settlement.  The  cabin 
assigned  to  "Tommy  Luck" — or  "The 
Luck,"  as  he  was  more  frequently  called— 
first  showed  signs  of  improvement.  It  was 

16 


THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP 

kept  scrupulously  clean  and  whitewashed. 
Then  it  was  boarded,  clothed,  and  papered. 
The  rosewood  cradle,  packed  eighty  miles 
by  mule,  had,  in  Stumpy's  way  of  putting 
it,  "sorter  killed  the  rest  of  the  furniture." 
So  the  rehabilitation  of  the  cabin  became  a 
necessity.  The  men  who  were  in  the  habit 
of  lounging  in  at  Stumpy's  to  see  "how  'The 
Luck'  got  on"  seemed  to  appreciate  the 
change,  and  in  self-defense,  the  rival  estab 
lishment  of  "Tuttle's  grocery"  bestirred  it 
self  and  imported  a  carpet  and  mirrors.  The 
reflections  of  the  latter  on  the  appearance 
of  Roaring  Camp  tended  to  produce  stricter 
habits  of  personal  cleanliness.  Again  Stumpy 
imposed  a  kind  of  quarantine  upon  those 
who  aspired  to  the  honor  and  privilege  of 
holding  The  Luck.  It  was  a  cruel  mortifi 
cation  to  Kentuck — who,  in  the  carelessness 
of  a  large  nature  and  the  habits  of  frontier 
life,  had  begun  to  regard  all  garments  as  a 
second  cuticle,  which,  like  a  snake's,  only 
sloughed  off  through  decay— to  be  debarred 
thisprivilegefromcertainprudentialreasons. 
Yet  such  was  the  subtle  influence  of  inno 
vation  that  he  thereafter  appeared  regularly 


BRET  HARTE 

every  afternoon  in  a  clean  shirt  and  face 
still  shining  from  his  ablutions.  Nor  were 
moral  and  social  sanitary  laws  neglected. 
"Tommy,"  who  was  supposed  to  spend  his 
whole  existence  in  a  persistent  attempt  to 
repose,  must  not  be  disturbed  by  noise.  The 
shouting  and  yelling,  which  had  gained  the 
camp  its  infelicitous  title, were  not  permitted 
within  hearing  distance  of  Stumpy's.  The 
men  conversed  in  whispers  or  smoked  with 
Indian  gravity.  Profanity  was  tacitly  given 
up  in  these  sacred  precincls,  and  throughout 
the  camp  a  popular  form  of  expletive,  known 
as"D— n  the  luck! "and "Curse  the  luck!" 
was  abandoned,  as  having  a  new  personal 
bearing.  Vocal  music  was  not  interdicted, 
being  supposed  to  have  a  soothing,  tranquil- 
izing  quality;  and  one  song,  sung  by  "Man- 
o'-War  Jack,"  an  English  sailor  from  her 
Majesty's  Australian  colonies,  was  quite  pop 
ular  as  a  lullaby.  It  was  a  lugubrious  recital 
of  the  exploits  of  "the  Arethusa,  Seventy- 
four,"  in  a  muffled  minor,  ending  with  a 
prolonged  dying  fall  at  the  burden  of  each 
verse, "  On  b-oo-o-ard  of  the  Arethusa."  It 
was  a  fine  sight  to  see  Jack  holding  The 

18 


THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP 

Luck,  rocking  from  side  to  side  as  if  with 
the  motion  of  a  ship,  and  crooning  forth  this 
naval  ditty.  Either  through  thepeculiar  rock 
ing  of  Jack  or  the  length  of  his  song,— it 
contained  ninety  stanzas,  and  was  continued 
with  conscientious  deliberation  to  the  bitter 
end, — the  lullaby  generally  had  the  desired 
effed:.  At  such  times  the  men  would  lie  at 
full  length  under  the  trees  in  the  soft  summer 
twilight,  smoking  their  pipes  and  drinking 
in  the  melodious  utterances.  An  indistinct 
idea  that  this  was  pastoral  happiness  pervaded 
the  camp.  "This  'ere  kind  o'  think,"  said 
the  Cockney  Simmons,  meditatively  reclin 
ing  on  his  elbow,  "is  'evingly."  It  reminded 
him  of  Greenwich. 

On  the  long  summer  days  The  Luck  was 
usually  carried  to  the  gulch  from  whence 
the  golden  store  of  Roaring  Camp  was  taken. 
There,  on  a  blanket  spread  over  pine  boughs, 
he  would  lie  while  the  men  were  working 
in  the  ditches  below.  Latterly  there  was  a 
rude  attempt  to  decorate  this  bower  with 
flowers  and  sweet-smelling  shrubs,  and  gen 
erally  some  one  would  bring  him  a  cluster 
of  wild  honeysuckles,  azaleas,  or  the  painted 


BRET  HARTE 

blossoms  of  Las  Mariposas.  The  men  had 
suddenly  awakened  to  the  fact  that  there  were 
beauty  and  significance  in  these  trifles,  which 
they  had  so  long  trodden  carelessly  beneath 
their  feet.  A  flake  of  glittering  mica,  a  frag 
ment  of  variegated  quartz,  a  bright  pebble 
from  the  bed  of  the  creek,  became  beautiful 
to  eyes  thus  cleared  and  strengthened,  and 
were  invariably  put  aside  for  The  Luck.  It 
was  wonderful  how  many  treasures  the 
woods  and  hillsides  yielded  that  "would  do 
for  Tommy."  Surrounded  by  playthings  such 
as  never  child  out  of  fairyland  had  before, 
it  is  to  be  hoped  that  Tommy  was  content. 
He  appeared  to  be  serenely  happy,  albeit 
there  was  an  infantine  gravity  about  him,  a 
contemplative  light  in  his  round  gray  eyes, 
that  sometimes  worried  Stumpy.  He  was  al 
ways  tradtable  and  quiet,  and  it  is  recorded 
that  once, having  crept  bey  ond  his  "  corral, "— 
a  hedge  of  tessellated  pine  boughs,  which 
surrounded  his  bed,— he  dropped  over  the 
bank  on  his  head  in  the  soft  earth,  and  re 
mained  with  his  mottled  legs  in  the  air  in 
that  position  for  at  least  five  minutes  with 
unflinching  gravity.  He  was  extricatedwith- 

20 


THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP 

out  a  murmur.  I  hesitate  to  record  the  many 
other  instances  of  his  sagacity,  which  rest, 
unfortunately,  upon  the  statements  of  preju 
diced  friends.  Some  of  them  were  not  with 
out  a  tinge  of  superstition.  "I  crep'  up  the 
bank  just  now,"  said  Kentuck  one  day,  in  a 
breathless  state  of  excitement,  "and  dern  my 
skin  if  he  wasn't  a-talking  to  a  jaybird  as  was 
a-sittin'  on  his  lap.  There  they  was,  just  as 
free  and  sociable  as  anything  you  please,  a- 
jawin'  at  each  other  just  like  two  cherry- 
bums."  Howbeit,  whether  creeping  over  the 
pine  boughs  or  lying  lazily  on  his  back  blink 
ing  at  the  leaves  above  him,  to  him  the  birds 
sang,  the  squirrels  chattered,  and  the  flowers 
bloomed.  Nature  was  his  nurse  and  playfel 
low.  For  him  she  would  let  slip  between  the 
leaves  golden  shafts  of  sunlight  that  fell  just 
within  his  grasp;  she  would  send  wandering 
breezes  to  visit  him  with  the  balm  of  bay  and 
resinous  gum ;  to  him  the  tall  redwoods  nod 
ded  familiarly  and  sleepily,  the  bumble  bees 
buzzed,  and  the  rooks  cawed  a  slumbrous  ac 
companiment. 

Such  was  the  golden  summer  of  Roaring 
Camp.  They  were  "flush  times,"  and  the 

21 


BRET  HARTE 

luck  was  with  them.  The  claims  had  yielded 
enormously.  The  camp  was  jealous  of  its 
privileges  and  looked  suspiciously  on  strang 
ers.  No  encouragement  was  given  to  immi 
gration,  and,  to  make  their  seclusion  more 
perfect,  the  land  on  either  side  of  the  moun 
tain  wall  that  surrounded  the  camp  they  duly 
preempted.  This,  and  a  reputation  for  singu 
lar  proficiency  with  the  revolver,  kept  the 
reserve  of  Roaring  Camp  inviolate.  The  ex 
pressman—their  only  connecting  link  with 
the  surrounding  world  —  sometimes  told 
wonderful  stories  of  the  camp.  He  would 
say,  "They've  a  street  up  there  in ' Roaring' 
that  would  lay  over  any  street  in  Red  Dog. 
They've  got  vines  and  flowers  round  their 
houses,  and  they  wash  themselves  twice  a  day . 
But  they  're  mighty  rough  on  strangers,  and 
they  worship  an  Ingin  baby." 

With  the  prosperity  of  the  camp  came  a 
desire  for  further  improvement.  It  was  pro 
posed  to  build  a  hotel  in  the  folio  wing  spring, 
and  to  invite  one  or  two  decent  families  to 
reside  there  for  the  sake  of  The  Luck,  who 
might  perhaps  profit  by  female  companion 
ship.  The  sacrifice  that  this  concession  to  the 

22 


THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP 

sex  cost  these  men,  who  were  fiercely  skep 
tical  in  regard  to  its  general  virtue  and  use 
fulness,  can  only  be  accounted  for  by  their 
affedion  for  Tommy.  A  few  still  held  out. 
But  the  resolve  could  not  be  carried  into  ef- 
fe6t  for  three  months,  and  the  minority 
meekly  yielded  in  the  hope  that  something 
might  turn  up  to  prevent  it.  And  it  did. 

The  winter  of  1 85 1  will  long  be  remem 
bered  in  the  foot-hills.  The  snow  lay  deep 
on  the  Sierras,  and  every  mountain  creek  be 
came  a  river,  and  every  river  a  lake.  Each 
gorge  and  gulch  was  transformed  into  a  tu 
multuous  water-course  that  descended  the 
hillsides,  tearing  down  giant  trees  and  scat 
tering  its  drift  and  debris  along  the  plain. 
Red  Dog  had  been  twice  under  water,  and 
Roaring  Camp  had  been  forewarned.  "Wa 
ter  put  the  gold  into  them  gulches,"  said 
Stumpy.  "It's  been  here  once  and  will  be 
here  again ! ' '  And  that  night  the  North  Fork 
suddenly  leaped  over  its  banks  and  swept  up 
the  triangular  valley  of  Roaring  Camp. 

In  the  confusion  of  rushing  water,  crash 
ing  trees,  and  crackling  timber,  and  the  dark 
ness  which  seemed  to  flow  with  the  water 

23 


BRET  HARTE 

and  blot  out  the  fair  valley,  but  little  could 
be  done  to  colled:  the  scattered  camp.  When 
the  morning  broke,  the  cabin  of  Stumpy, 
nearest  the  river-bank,  was  gone.  Higher  up 
the  gulch  they  found  the  body  of  its  unlucky 
owner;  but  the  pride,  the  hope, the  joy,The 
Luck,  of  Roaring  Camp  had  disappeared. 
They  were  returning  with  sad  hearts  when 
a  shout  from  the  bank  recalled  them. 

It  was  a  relief-boat  from  down  the  river. 
They  had  picked  up,  they  said,  a  man  and 
an  infant,  nearly  exhausted,  about  two  miles 
below.  Did  anybody  know  them,  and  did 
they  belong  here? 

It  needed  but  a  glance  to  show  them  Ken- 
tuck  lying  there,  cruelly  crushed  and  bruised, 
but  still  holdingThe  Luck  of  Roaring  Camp 
in  his  arms.  As  they  bent  over  the  strangely 
assorted  pair,  they  saw  that  the  child  was  cold 
and  pulseless.  "He  is  dead,"  said  one.  Ken- 
tuck  opened  his  eyes.  "Dead?"  he  repeated 
feebly.  "Yes,  my  man,  and  you  are  dying 
too."  A  smile  lit  the  eyes  of  the  expiring 
Kentuck.  "Dying!"  he  repeated;  "he's  a- 
taking  me  with  him.  Tell  the  boys  I've  got 
The  Luck  with  me  now;"  and  the  strong 

24 


THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP 

man,  clinging  to  the  frail  babe  as  a  drown 
ing  man  is  said  to  cling  to  a  straw,  drifted 
away  into  the  shadowy  river  that  flows  for 
ever  to  the  unknown  sea. 


THE   OUTCASTS  OF  POKER  FLAT 


THE  OUTCASTS  OF  POKER  FLAT 

AMR.  John  Oakhurst,  gambler,  stepped 
into  the  main  street  of  Poker  Flat  on 
the  morning  of  the  2  3dof  November, 
1850,  he  was  conscious  of  a  change  in  its 
moral  atmosphere  since  the  preceding  night. 
Two  or  three  men,  conversing  earnestly  to 
gether,  ceased  as  he  approached,  and  ex 
changed  significant  glances.  There  was  a 
Sabbath  lull  in  the  air,  which,  in  a  settle 
ment  unused  to  Sabbath  influences,  looked 
ominous. 

Mr.  Oakhurst's  calm,  handsome  face  be 
trayed  small  concern  in  these  indications. 
Whether  he  was  conscious  of  any  predispos 
ing  cause  was  another  question.  "I  reckon 
they  're  after  somebody ,"  he  reflected;  "likely 

29 


BRET  HARTE 

it's  me."  He  returned  to  his  pocket  the  hand 
kerchief  with  which  he  had  been  whipping 
away  the  red  dust  of  Poker  Flat  from  his 
neat  boots,  and  quietly  discharged  his  mind 
of  any  further  conjecture. 

In  point  of  fact,  Poker  Flat  was  "after 
somebody."  It  had  lately  suffered  the  loss  of 
several  thousand  dollars,  two  valuable  horses, 
and  a  prominent  citizen.  It  was  experienc 
ing  a  spasm  of  virtuous  reaction,  quite  as  law 
less  and  ungovernable  as  any  of  the  acts  that 
had  provoked  it.  A  secret  committee  had 
determined  to  rid  the  town  of  all  improper 
persons.  This  was  done  permanently  in  re 
gard  of  two  men  who  were  then  hanging 
from  the  boughs  of  a  sycamore  in  the  gulch, 
and  temporarily  in  the  banishment  of  certain 
other  objectionable  characters.  I  regret  to 
say  that  some  of  these  were  ladies.  It  is  but 
due  to  the  sex,  however,  to  state  that  their 
impropriety  was  professional,  and  it  was  only 
in  such  easily  established  standards  of  evil 
that  Poker  Flat  ventured  to  sit  in  judgment. 

Mr.  Oakhurst  was  right  in  supposing  that 
he  was  included  in  this  category.  A  few  of 
the  committee  had  urged  hanging  him  as  a 

30 


THE  OUTCASTS  OF  POKER  FLAT 

possible  example,  and  a  sure  method  of  re 
imbursing  themselves  from  his  pockets  of 
the  sums  he  had  won  from  them.  "It's  agin 
justice/' said  Jim  Wheeler,  "to  let  this  yer 
young  man  from  Roaring  Camp — an  entire 
stranger — carry  away  our  money/'  But  a 
crude  sentiment  of  equity  residing  in  the 
breasts  of  those  who  had  been  fortunate 
enough  to  win  from  Mr.  Oakhurst  overruled 
this  narrower  local  prejudice. 

Mr.  Oakhurst  received  his  sentence  with 
philosophic  calmness,  none  the  less  coolly 
that  he  was  aware  of  the  hesitation  of  his 
judges.  He  was  too  much  of  a  gambler  not 
to  accept  fate.  With  him  life  was  at  best  an 
uncertain  game,  and  he  recognized  the  usual 
percentage  in  favor  of  the  dealer. 

A  body  of  armed  men  accompanied  the 
deported  wickedness  of  Poker  Flat  to  the 
outskirts  of  the  settlement.  Besides  Mr.  Oak 
hurst,  who  was  known  to  be  a  coolly  des 
perate  man,  and  for  whose  intimidation  the 
armed  escort  was  intended,  the  expatriated 
party  consisted  of  a  young  woman  familiarly 
known  as  "The Duchess";  another  who  had 
won  the  title  of  "Mother  Shipton";  and 

31 


BRET  HARTE 

"Uncle Billy/*  a  suspected  sluice-robber  and 
confirmed  drunkard.  The  cavalcade  pro 
voked  no  comments  from  the  spectators,  nor 
was  any  word  uttered  by  the  escort.  Only 
when  the  gulch  which  marked  the  uttermost 
limit  of  Poker  Flat  was  reached,  the  leader 
spoke  briefly  and  to  the  point.  The  exiles 
were  forbidden  to  return  at  the  peril  of  their 
lives. 

As  the  escort  disappeared,  their  pent-up 
feelings  found  vent  in  a  few  hysterical  tears 
from  the  Duchess,  some  bad  language  from 
Mother  Ship  ton,  and  a  Parthian  volley  of  ex 
pletives  from  Uncle  Billy.  The  philosophic 
Oakhurst  alone  remained  silent.  He  listened 
calmly  to  Mother  Shipton's  desire  to  cut 
somebody's  heart  out,  to  the  repeated  state 
ments  of  the  D  uchess  that  she  would  die  in  the 
road,  and  to  the  alarming  oaths  that  seemed 
to  be  bumped  out  of  Uncle  Billy  as  he  rode 
forward.  With  the  easy  good  humor  char 
acteristic  of  his  class,  he  insisted  upon  ex 
changing  his  own  riding-horse,"Five-Spot,' ' 
for  the  sorry  mule  which  the  Duchess  rode. 
But  even  this  act  did  not  draw  the  party  in 
to  any  closer  sympathy.  The  young  woman 

32 


THE  OUTCASTS  OF  POKER  FLAT 

readjusted  her  somewhat  draggled  plumes 
with  a  feeble,  faded  coquetry ;  Mother  Ship- 
ton  eyed  the  possessor  of  "Five-Spot"  with 
malevolence,  and  Uncle  Billy  included  the 
whole  party  in  one  sweeping  anathema. 

The  road  to  Sandy  Bar— a  camp  that, 
not  having  as  yet  experienced  the  regenerat 
ing  influences  of  Poker  Flat,  consequently 
seemed  to  offer  some  invitation  to  the  emi 
grants — lay  over  a  steep  mountain  range.  It 
was  distant  a  day's  severe  travel.  In  that  ad 
vanced  season,  the  party  soon  passed  out  of 
the  moist,  temperate  regions  of  the  foot-hills 
into  the  dry,  cold,  bracing  air  of  the  Sierras. 
The  trail  was  narrow  and  difficult.  At  noon 
the  Duchess,  rolling  out  of  her  saddle  upon 
the  ground,  declared  her  intention  of  going 
no  farther,  and  the  party  halted. 

The  spot  was  singularly  wild  and  impres 
sive.  A  wooded  amphitheatre,  surrounded 
on  three  sides  by  precipitous  cliffs  of  naked 
granite,  sloped  gently  toward  the  crest  of  an 
other  precipice  that  overlooked  the  valley. 
It  was,  undoubtedly,  the  most  suitable  spot 
for  a  camp,  had  camping  been  advisable.  But 
Mr.  Oakhurst  knew  that  scarcely  half  the 

33 


BRET  HARTE 

journey  to  Sandy  Bar  was  accomplished,  and 
the  party  were  not  equipped  or  provisioned 
for  delay.  This  fact  he  pointed  out  to  his 
companions  curtly,  with  a  philosophic  com 
mentary  on  the  folly  of  "throwing  up  their 
hand  before  the  game  was  played  out."  But 
they  were  furnished  with  liquor,  which  in 
this  emergency  stood  them  in  place  of  food, 
fuel,  rest,  and  prescience.  In  spite  of  his  re 
monstrances,  it  was  not  long  before  they  were 
more  or  less  under  its  influence.  Uncle  Billy 
passed  rapidly  from  a  bellicose  state  into  one 
of  stupor,  the  Duchess  became  maudlin,  and 
Mother Shipton  snored.  Mr.  Oakhurst  alone 
remained  er eel:, leaning  against  a  rock,  calmly 
surveying  them. 

Mr.  Oakhurst  did  not  drink.  It  interfered 
with  a  profession  which  required  coolness, 
impassiveness,  and  presence  of  mind,  and,  in 
his  own  language,he"couldn't  afford  it."  As 
he  gazed  at  his  recumbent  fellow  exiles,  the 
loneliness  begotten  of  his  pariah  trade,  his 
habits  of  life,  his  very  vices,  for  the  first  time 
seriously  oppressed  him.  He  bestirred  him 
self  in  dusting  his  black  clothes,  washing  his 
hands  and  face,  and  other  acts  characteristic 

34 


THE  OUTCASTS  OF  POKER  FLAT 

of  his  studiously  neat  habits,  and  for  a  mo 
ment  forgot  his  annoyance.  The  thought  of 
deserting  his  weaker  and  more  pitiable  com 
panions  never  perhaps  occurred  to  him.  Yet 
he  could  not  help  feeling  the  want  of  that  ex 
citement  which,  singularly  enough,  was  most 
conducive  to  that  calm  equanimity  for  which 
he  was  notorious.  He  looked  at  the  gloomy 
walls  that  rose  a  thousand  feet  sheer  above 
the  circling  pines  around  him,  at  the  sky 
ominously  clouded,  at  the  valley  below,  al 
ready  deepening  into  shadow;  and,  doing  so, 
suddenly  he  heard  his  own  name  called. 

A  horseman  slowly  ascended  the  trail.  In 
the  fresh,  open  face  of  the  newcomer  Mr. 
Oakhurst  recognized  Tom  Simson,  other 
wise  known  as"The  Innocent/  'of  Sandy  Bar. 
He  had  met  him  some  months  before  over 
a  "little  game/'  and  had,  with  perfe6t  equa 
nimity,  won  the  entire  fortune — amounting 
to  some  forty  dollars — of  that  guileless  youth. 
After  the  game  was  finished,  Mr.  Oakhurst 
drew  the  youthful  speculator  behind  the  door 
and  thus  addressed  him:  "Tommy, you're  a 
good  little  man,  but  you  can't  gamble  worth 
a  cent.  Don't  try  it  over  again."  He  then 

35 


BRET  HARTE 

handed  him  his  money  back,  pushed  him 
gently  from  the  room,  and  so  made  a  devoted 
slave  of  Tom  Simson. 

There  was  a  remembrance  of  this  in  his 
boyish  and  enthusiastic  greeting  of  Mr.  Oak- 
hurst.  He  had  started,  he  said,  to  go  to  Poker 
Flat  to  seek  his  fortune.  "Alone?"  No,  not 
exadlly  alone;  in  fact  (a  giggle),  he  had  run 
away  with  Piney  Woods.  Didn't  Mr.  Oak- 
hurst  remember  Piney  ?  She  that  used  to  wait 
on  the  table  at  theTemperance House?  They 
had  been  engaged  a  long  time,  but  old  Jake 
Woods  had  objected,  and  so  they  had  run 
away,  and  were  going  to  Poker  Flat  to  be 
married,  and  here  they  were.  And  they  were 
tired  out,  and  how  lucky  it  was  they  had 
found  a  place  to  camp,  and  company.  All  this 
the  Innocent  delivered  rapidly,  while  Piney, 
a  stout,  comely  damsel  of  fifteen,  emerged 
from  behind  the  pine-tree,  where  she  had 
been  blushing  unseen,  and  rode  to  the  side 
of  her  lover. 

Mr.  Oakhurst  seldom  troubled  himself 
with  sentiment,  still  less  with  propriety ;  but 
he  had  a  vague  idea  that  the  situation  was  not 
fortunate .  H  e  retained,  however,  his  presence 

36 


THE  OUTCASTS  OF  POKER  FLAT 

of  mind  sufficiently  to  kick  Uncle  Billy,  who 
was  about  to  say  something,  and  Uncle  Billy 
was  sober  enough  to  recognize  in  Mr.  Oak- 
hurst's  kick  a  superior  power  that  would  not 
bear  trifling.  He  then  endeavored  to  dissuade 
Tom  Simson  from  delaying  further,  but  in 
vain.  He  even  pointed  out  the  fad:  that  there 
was  no  provision,  nor  means  of  making  a 
camp.  But, unluckily,  the  Innocent  met  this 
objection  by  assuring  the  party  that  he  was 
provided  with  an  extra  mule  loaded  with 
provisions,  and  by  the  discovery  of  a  rude 
attempt  at  a  log  house  near  the  trail.  "Piney 
can  stay  with  Mrs.  Oakhurst,' '  said  the  Inno 
cent,  pointing  to  the  Duchess,  "and  I  can 
shift  for  myself." 

Nothing  but  Mr.  Oakhurst's  admonishing 
foot  saved  Uncle  Billy  from  bursting  into  a 
roar  of  laughter.  As  it  was,  he  felt  compelled 
to  retire  up  the  canon  until  he  could  recover 
his  gravity.  There  he  confided  the  joke  to 
the  tall  pine-trees,  with  many  slaps  of  his  leg, 
contortions  of  his  face,  and  the  usual  profan 
ity.  But  when  he  returned  to  the  party,  he 
found  them  seated  by  a  fire— for  the  air  had 
grown  strangely  chill  and  the  sky  overcast— 

37 


BRET  HARTE 

in  apparently  amicable  conversation.  Piney 
was  actually  talking  in  an  impulsive  girlish 
fashion  to  the  Duchess,  who  was  listening 
with  an  interest  and  animation  she  had  not 
shown  for  many  days.  The  Innocent  was 
holding  forth,  apparently  with  equal  effect, 
to  Mr.  Oakhurst  and  Mother  Shipton,  who 
was  actually  relaxing  in  to  amiability.  "Is  this 
y er  a  d— d  picnic  ? ' '  said  Uncle  Billy,  with  in 
ward  scorn,  as  he  surveyed  the  sylvan  group, 
the  glancing  firelight,  and  the  tethered  ani 
mals  in  the  foreground.  Suddenly  an  idea 
mingled  with  the  alcoholic  fumes  that  dis 
turbed  his  brain.  It  was  apparently  of  aj  ocular 
nature,  for  he  felt  impelled  to  slap  his  leg 
again  and  cram  his  fist  into  his  mouth. 

As  the  shadows  crept  slowly  up  the  moun 
tain,  a  slight  breeze  rocked  the  tops  of  the 
pine-trees  and  moaned  through  their  long 
and  gloomy  aisles.  The  ruined  cabin,  patched 
and  covered  with  pine  boughs,  was  set  apart 
for  the  ladies.  As  the  lovers  parted,  they  un 
affectedly  exchanged  a  kiss,  so  honest  and  sin 
cere  that  it  might  have  been  heard  above  the 
swaying  pines.  The  frail  Duchess  and  the 
malevolent  Mother  Shipton  were  probably 

38 


THE  OUTCASTS  OF  POKER  FLAT 

too  stunned  to  remark  upon  this  last  evidence 
of  simplicity,  and  so  turned  without  a  word 
to  the  hut.  The  fire  was  replenished,  the  men 
lay  down  before  the  door,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  were  asleep. 

Mr.  Oakhurst  was  a  light  sleeper.  Toward 
morning  he  awoke  benumbed  and  cold.  As 
he  stirred  the  dying  fire,  the  wind,  which  was 
now  blowing  strongly,  brought  to  his  cheek 
that  which  caused  the  blood  to  leave  it, — 
snow! 

He  started  to  his  feet  with  the  intention 
of  awakening  the  sleepers,  for  there  was  no 
time  to  lose.  But  turning  to  where  Uncle 
Billy  had  been  lying,  he  found  him  gone.  A 
suspicion  leaped  to  his  brain,  and  a  curse  to 
his  lips.  He  ran  to  the  spot  where  the  mules 
had  been  tethered  —  they  were  no  longer 
there.  The  tracks  were  already  rapidly  dis 
appearing  in  the  snow. 

The  momentary  excitement  brought  Mr. 
Oakhurst  backto  thefire  with  his  usual  calm. 
He  did  not  waken  the  sleepers.  The  Inno 
cent  slumbered  peacefully,  with  a  smile  on 
his  good-humored,  freckled  face;  the  virgin 
Piney  slept  beside  her  frailer  sisters  as  sweetly 

39 


BRET  HARTE 

as  though  attended  by  celestial  guardians;  and 
Mr.  Oakhurst,  drawing  his  blanket  over  his 
shoulders,  stroked  his  mustaches  and  waited 
for  the  dawn.  It  came  slowly  in  a  whirling 
mist  of  snowflakes  that  dazzled  and  confused 
the  eye.  What  could  be  seen  of  the  landscape 
appeared  magically  changed.  He  looked  over 
the  valley,  and  summed  up  the  present  and 
future  in  two  words,  "Snowed  in!" 

A  careful  inventory  of  the  provisions, 
which,  fortunately  for  the  party,  had  been 
stored  within  the  hut,  and  so  escaped  the  fel 
onious  fingers  of  Uncle  Billy,  disclosed  the 
fact  that  with  care  and  prudence  they  might 
last  ten  days  longer.  "That  is/ '  said  Mr.  Oak- 
hurst  sotto  voce  to  the  Innocent,  "if  you  're 
willing  to  board  us.  If  you  ain't— and  per 
haps  you'd  better  not — you  can  wait  till 
Uncle  Billy  gets  back  with  provisions."  For 
some  occult  reason,  Mr.  Oakhurst  could  not 
bring  himself  to  disclose  Uncle  Billy's  ras 
cality,  and  so  offered  the  hypothesis  that  he 
had  wandered  from  the  camp  and  had  acci 
dentally  stampeded  the  animals.  He  dropped 
a  warning  to  the  Duchess  and  Mother  Ship- 
ton,  who  of  course  knew  the  facts  of  their 


THE  OUTCASTS  OF  POKER  FLAT 

associate's  defection.  "They'll  find  out  the 
truth  about  us  all  when  they  find  out  any 
thing,"  he  added  significantly,  "and  there 's 
no  good  frightening  them  now." 

Tom  Simson  not  only  put  all  his  worldly 
store  at  the  disposal  of  Mr.  Oakhurst,  but 
seemed  to  enjoy  the  prosped  of  their  enforced 
seclusion.  "We'll  have  a  good  camp  for  a 
week, and  then  the  snow '11  melt, and  we'll 
all  go  back  together."  The  cheerful  gayety 
of  the  young  man  and  Mr.  Oakhurst's  calm 
infeded  the  others.  The  Innocent,  with  the 
aid  of  pine  boughs,  extemporized  a  thatch 
for  the  roofless  cabin, and  theDuchess  dired- 
ed  Piney  in  the  rearrangement  of  the  interior 
with  a  taste  and  tad:  that  opened  the  blue 
eyes  of  that  provincial  maiden  to  their  fullest 
extent.  "I  reckon  now  you're  used  to  fine 
things  at  Poker  Flat,"  said  Piney.  The  Duch 
ess  turned  away  sharply  to  conceal  something 
that  reddened  her  cheeks  through  their  pro 
fessional  tint,  and  Mother  Shipton  requested 
Piney  not  to  "chatter."  But  when  Mr.  Oak- 
hurst  returned  from  a  weary  search  for  the 
trail,  he  heard  the  sound  of  happy  laughter 
echoed  from  the  rocks.  He  stopped  in  some 

41 


BRET  HARTE 

alarm,  and  his  thoughts  first  naturally  re 
verted  to  the  whiskey,  which  he  had  pru 
dently  cached.  "And  yet  it  don't  somehow 
sound  like  whiskey/'  said  the  gambler.  It 
was  not  until  he  caught  sight  of  the  blazing 
fire  through  the  still  blinding  storm,  and  the 
group  around  it,  that  he  settled  to  the  con- 
viclion  that  it  was  "square  fun." 

Whether  Mr.  Oakhurst  had  cached  his 
cards  with  the  whiskey  as  something  de 
barred  the  free  access  of  the  community,  I 
cannot  say.  It  was  certain  that,  in  Mother 
Shipton's  words,he"didn't  say  'cards' once" 
during  that  evening.  Haply  the  time  was 
beguiled  by  an  accordion,  produced  some 
what  ostentatiously  by  Tom  Simson  from  his 
pack.  Notwithstanding  some  difficulties  at 
tending  the  manipulation  of  this  instrument, 
Piney  Woods  managed  to  pluck  several  re- 
ludtant  melodies  from  its  keys,  to  an  accom 
paniment  by  the  Innocent  on  a  pair  of  bone 
castanets.  But  the  crowning  festivity  of  the 
evening  was  reached  in  a  rude  camp-meet 
ing  hymn,  which  the  lovers,  joining  hands, 
sang  with  great  earnestness  and  vociferation. 
I  fear  that  a  certain  defiant  tone  and  Cove- 

42 


THE  OUTCASTS  OF  POKER  FLAT 

nanter's  swing  to  its  chorus,  rather  than  any 
devotional  quality,  caused  it  speedily  to  infedt 
the  others,  who  at  last  joined  in  the  refrain:— 

"I'm  proud  to  live  in  the  service  of  the  Lord, 
And  I'm  bound  to  die  in  His  army." 

The  pines  rocked,  the  storm  eddied  and 
whirled  above  the  miserable  group,  and  the 
flames  of  their  altar  leaped  heavenward,  as  if 
in  token  of  the  vow. 

At  midnight  the  storm  abated,  the  rolling 
clouds  parted,  and  the  stars  glittered  keenly 
above  the  sleeping  camp.  Mr.  Oakhurst, 
whose  professional  habits  had  enabled  him 
to  live  on  the  smallest  possible  amount  of 
sleep,  in  dividing  the  watch  with  Tom  Sim- 
son  somehow  managed  to  take  upon  himself 
the  greater  part  of  that  duty.  He  excused 
himself  to  the  Innocent  by  saying  that  he  had 
"often  been  a  week  without  sleep."  "Doing 
what?"  asked  Tom.  "Poker!"  replied  Oak- 
hurst  sententiously.  "When  a  man  gets  a 
streak  of  luck,— nigger-luck,— he  don't  get 
tired.  The  luck  gives  in  first.  Luck,"  con 
tinued  the  gambler  reflectively,  "is  a  mighty 
queer  thing.  All  you  know  about  it  for  cer 
tain  is  that  it 's  bound  to  change.  And  it 's 

43 


BRET  HARTE 

finding  out  when  it 's  going  to  change  that 
makes  you.  We  've  had  a  streak  of  bad  luck 
since  we  left  Poker  Flat, — you  come  along, 
and  slap  you  get  into  it,  too.  If  you  can  hold 
your  cards  right  along  you're  all  right. 
For/'  added  the  gambler,  with  cheerful  ir 
relevance — 

"  'I'm  proud  to  live  in  the  service  of  the  Lord, 
And  I'm  bound  to  die  in  His  army.'  ' 

The  third  day  came,  and  the  sun,  looking 
through  the  white-curtained  valley,  saw  the 
outcasts  divide  their  slowly  decreasing  store 
of  provisions  for  the  morning  meal.  It  was 
one  of  the  peculiarities  of  that  mountain  cli 
mate  that  its  rays  diffused  a  kindly  warmth 
over  the  wintry  landscape,  as  if  in  regretful 
commiseration  of  the  past.  But  it  revealed 
drift  on  drift  of  snow  piled  high  around  the 
hut, — a  hopeless,  uncharted,  trackless  sea  of 
white  lying  below  the  rocky  shores  to  which 
the  castaways  still  clung.  Through  the  mar- 
velously  clear  air  the  smoke  of  the  pastoral 
village  of  Poker  Flat  rose  miles  away.  Mother 
Shipton  saw  it,  and  from  a  remote  pinnacle 
of  her  rocky  fastness  hurled  in  that  direction 
a  final  malediction.  It  was  her  last  vitupera- 

44 


THE  OUTCASTS  OF  POKER  FLAT 

tive  attempt,  and  perhaps  for  that  reason  was 
invested  with  a  certain  degree  of  sublimity. 
It  did  her  good,  she  privately  informed  the 
Duchess.  "Just  you  go  out  there  and  cuss, 
and  see."  She  then  set  herself  to  the  task  of 
amusing  "  the  child,"  as  she  and  the  Duchess 
were  pleased  to  call  Piney.  Piney  was  no 
chicken,  but  it  was  a  soothing  and  original 
theory  of  the  pair  thus  to  account  for  the 
fad:  that  she  didn't  swear  and  wasn't  im 
proper. 

When  night  crept  up  again  through  the 
gorges,  the  reedy  notes  of  the  accordion  rose 
and  fell  in  fitful  spasms  and  long-drawn  gasps 
by  the  flickering  campfire.  But  music  failed 
to  fill  entirely  the  aching  void  left  by  insuf 
ficient  food,  and  a  new  diversion  was  pro 
posed  by  Piney, — story-telling.  Neither  Mr. 
Oakhurst  nor  his  female  companions  caring 
to  relate  their  personal  experiences,  this  plan 
would  have  failed  too,  but  for  the  Innocent. 
Some  months  before  he  had  chanced  upon 
a  stray  copy  of  Mr.  Pope's  ingenious  trans 
lation  of  the  Iliad.  He  now  proposed  to  nar 
rate  the  principal  incidents  of  that  poem- 
having  thoroughly  mastered  the  argument 

45 


BRET  HARTE 

and  fairly  forgotten  the  words — in  the  cur 
rent  vernacular  of  Sandy  Bar.  And  so  for  the 
rest  of  that  night  the  Homeric  demigods 
again  walked  the  earth.  Trojan  bully  and 
wily  Greek  wrestled  in  the  winds,  and  the 
great  pines  in  the  canon  seemed  to  bow  to 
the  wrath  of  the  son  of  Peleus.  Mr.  Oak- 
hurst  listened  with  quiet  satisfaction.  Most 
especially  was  he  interested  in  the  fate  of 
"Ash-heels,"  as  the  Innocent  persisted  in  de 
nominating  the  "swift-footed  Achilles. " 

So,  with  small  food  and  much  of  Homer 
and  the  accordion,  a  week  passed  over  the 
heads  of  the  outcasts.  The  sun  again  forsook 
them,  and  again  from  leaden  skies  the  snow- 
flakes  were  sifted  over  the  land.  Day  by  day 
closer  around  them  drew  the  snowy  circle, 
until  at  last  they  looked  from  their  prison 
over  drifted  walls  of  dazzling  white,  that 
towered  twenty  feet  above  their  heads.  It  be 
came  more  and  more  difficult  to  replenish 
their  fires,  even  from  the  fallen  trees  beside 
them,  now  half  hidden  in  the  drifts.  And  yet 
no  one  complained.  The  lovers  turned  from 
the  dreary  prospect  and  looked  into  each 
other's  eyes,  and  were  happy.  Mr.  Oakhurst 


THE  OUTCASTS  OF  POKER  FLAT 

settled  himself  coolly  to  the  losing  game  be 
fore  him.  The  Duchess,  more  cheerful  than 
she  had  been,  assumed  the  care  of  Piney. 
Only  Mother  Shipton— once  the  strongest 
of  the  party — seemed  to  sicken  and  fade.  At 
midnight  on  the  tenth  day  she  called  Oak- 
hurst  to  her  side.  "I'm  going/' she  said, in 
a  voice  of  querulous  weakness,  "but  don't 
say  anything  about  it.  Don't  waken  the  kids. 
Take  the  bundle  from  under  my  head,  and 
open  it."  Mr.  Oakhurst  did  so.  It  contained 
Mother  Shipton's  rations  for  the  last  week, 
untouched.  "Give  'em  to  the  child,"  she  said, 
pointing  to  the  sleeping  Piney.  "You've 
starved  yourself,"  said  the  gambler.  "That 's 
what  they  call  it,"  said  the  woman  queru 
lously,  as  she  lay  down  again,  and,  turning 
her  face  to  the  wall,  passed  quietly  away. 

The  accordion  and  the  bones  were  put 
aside  that  day,  and  Homer  was  forgotten. 
When  the  body  of  Mother  Shipton  had  been 
committed  to  the  snow,  Mr.  Oakhurst  took 
the  Innocent  aside,  and  showed  him  a  pair 
of  snow-shoes,  which  he  had  fashioned  from 
the  old  pack-saddle.  "There's  one  chance 
in  a  hundred  to  save  her  yet,' '  he  said,  pointing 

47 


BRET  HARTE 

to  Piney ;  "but  it  's  there/*  he  added,  point 
ing  toward  Poker  Flat.  "  If  you  can  reach 
there  in  two  days  she's  safe/'  "And  you?" 
askedTom  Simson.  "I  '11  stay  here,"  was  the 
curt  reply. 

The  lovers  parted  with  a  long  embrace. 
"You  are  not  going,  too?"  said  the  Duchess, 
as  she  saw  Mr.Oakhurst  apparently  waiting 
to  accompany  him.  "As  far  as  the  canon," 
he  replied.  He  turned  suddenly  and  kissed 
the  Duchess,  leaving  her  pallid  face  aflame, 
and  her  trembling  limbs  rigid  with  amaze 
ment. 

Night  came,  but  not  Mr.  Oakhurst.  It 
brought  the  storm  again  and  the  whirling 
snow.  Then  the  Duchess,  feeding  the  fire, 
found  that  some  one  had  quietly  piled  beside 
the  hut  enough  fuel  to  last  a  few  days  longer. 
The  tears  rose  to  her  eyes,  but  she  hid  them 
from  Piney. 

The  women  slept  but  little.  In  the  morn 
ing,  looking  into  each  other's  faces,  they  read 
their  fate.  Neither  spoke,  but  Piney,  accept 
ing  the  position  of  the  stronger,  drew  near 
and  placed  her  arm  around  the  Duchess's 
waist.  They  kept  this  attitude  for  the  rest  of 


THE  OUTCASTS  OF  POKER  FLAT 

the  day.  That  night  the  storm  reached  its 
greatest  fury,  and,  rending  asunder  the  pro- 
tedting  vines,  invaded  the  very  hut. 

Toward  morning  they  found  themselves 
unable  to  feed  the  fire,  which  gradually  died 
away.  As  the  embers  slowly  blackened,  the 
Duchess  crept  closer  to  Piney,  and  broke 
the  silence  of  many  hours:  "Piney,  can  you 
pray?"  "No,  dear,"  said  Piney  simply.  The 
Duchess,  without  knowing  exactly  why,  felt 
relieved,  and,  putting  her  head  upon  Piney's 
shoulder,  spoke  no  more.  And  so  reclining, 
the  younger  and  purer  pillowing  the  head  of 
her  soiled  sister  upon  her  virgin  breast,  they 
fell  asleep. 

The  wind  lulled  as  if  it  feared  to  waken 
them.  Feathery  drifts  of  snow,  shaken  from 
the  long  pine  boughs,  flew  like  white  winged 
birds,  and  settled  about  them  as  they  slept. 
The  moon  through  the  rifted  clouds  looked 
down  upon  what  had  been  the  camp.  But 
all  human  stain,  all  trace  of  earthly  travail, 
was  hidden  beneath  the  spotless  mantle  mer 
cifully  flung  from  above. 

They  slept  all  that  day  and  the  next,  nor 
did  they  waken  when  voices  and  footsteps 

49 


BRET  HARTE 

broke  the  silence  of  the  camp.  And  when 
pitying  fingers  brushed  the  snow  from  their 
wan  faces,  you  could  scarcely  have  told  from 
the  equal  peace  that  dwelt  upon  them  which 
was  she  that  had  sinned.  Even  the  law  of 
Poker  Flat  recognized  this,  and  turned  away, 
leaving  them  still  locked  in  each  other's 
arms. 

But  at  the  head  of  the  gulch,  on  one  of  the 
largest  pine-trees,  they  found  the  deuce  of 
clubs  pinned  to  the  bark  with  a  bowie-knife. 
It  bore  the  following,  written  in  pencil  in  a 
firm  hand:— 

t 

BENEATH  THIS  TREE 

LIES  THE  BODY 

OF 

JOHN  OAKHURST 

WHO   STRUCK  A   STREAK  OF  BAD   LUCK 
ON  THE  23°  OF  NOVEMBER,  1850 

AND 

HANDED  IN  HIS  CHECKS 
ON  THE  7™   DECEMBER,  I  850 


And  pulseless  and  cold,  with  a  Derringer  by 
his  side  and  a  bullet  in  his  heart,  though  still 

50 


THE  OUTCASTS  OF  POKER  FLAT 

calm  as  in  life,  beneath  the  snow  lay  he  who 
was  at  once  the  strongest  and  yet  the  weakest 
of  the  outcasts  of  Poker  Flat. 


TENNESSEE'S  PARTNER 


TENNESSEE'S  PARTNER 

I  DO  NOT  think  that  we  ever  knew  his  real 
name.  Our  ignorance  of  it  certainly  never 
gave  us  any  social  inconvenience,  for  at 
Sandy  Bar  in  1 8  54  most  men  were  christened 
anew.  Sometimes  these  appellatives  were  de 
rived  from  some  distin  driven  ess  of  dress,  as  in 
the  case  of  "Dungaree  Jack";  or  from  some 
peculiarity  of  habit,  as  shown  in  "Saleratus 
Bill,"  so  called  from  an  undue  proportion  of 
that  chemical  in  his  daily  bread;  or  from 
some  unlucky  slip,  as  exhibited  in  "The  Iron 
Pirate,"  a  mild,  inoffensive  man,  who  earned 
that  baleful  title  by  his  unfortunate  mispro 
nunciation  of  the  term  "iron  pyrites."  Per 
haps  this  may  have  been  the  beginning  of  a 
rude  heraldry;  but  I  am  constrained  to  think 

55 


BRET  HARTE 

that  it  was  because  a  man's  real  name  in  that 
day  rested  solely  upon  his  own  unsupported 
statement.  "Call  yourself  Clifford,  do  you?" 
said  Boston,  addressing  a  timid  newcomer 
with  infinite  scorn ;  "hell  is  full  of  such  Clif 
fords!  "  He  then  introduced  the  unfortunate 
man,  whose  name  happened  to  be  really  Clif 
ford,  as  "Jaybird  Charley," — an  unhallowed 
inspiration  of  the  moment  that  clung  to  him 
ever  after. 

But  to  return  toTennessee's  Partner,  whom 
we  never  knew  by  any  other  than  this  relative 
title.  That  he  had  ever  existed  as  a  separate 
and  distinct  individuality  we  only  learned 
later.  It  seems  that  in  1 8  5  3  he  left  Poker  Flat 
to  go  to  San  Francisco,  ostensibly  to  procure 
a  wife.  He  never  got  any  farther  than  Stock 
ton.  At  that  place  he  was  attracted  by  a  young 
person  who  waited  upon  the  table  at  the  hotel 
where  he  took  his  meals.  One  morning  he 
said  something  to  her  which  caused  her  to 
smile  not  unkindly,  to  somewhat  coquet- 
tishly  break  a  plate  of  toast  over  his  upturned, 
serious,  simple  face,  and  to  retreat  to  the 
kitchen.  He  followed  her,  and  emerged  a 
few  moments  later,  covered  with  more  toast 

56 


TENNESSEE'S   PARTNER 

and  vi&ory.  That  day  week  they  were  mar 
ried  by  a  justice  of  the  peace,  and  returned 
to  Poker  Flat.  I  am  aware  that  something 
more  might  be  made  of  this  episode,  but  I 
prefer  to  tell  it  as  it  was  current  at  Sandy 
Bar,— in  the  gulches  and  bar-rooms,— where 
all  sentiment  was  modified  by  a  strong  sense 
of  humor. 

Of  their  married  felicity  but  little  is 
known,  perhaps  for  the  reason  that  Tennes 
see,  then  living  with  his  partner,  one  day 
took  occasion  to  say  something  to  the  bride 
on  his  own  account,  at  which,  it  is  said,  she 
smiled  not  unkindly  and  chastely  retreated, — 
this  time  as  far  as  Mary sville,  where  Tennes 
see  followed  her,  and  where  they  went  to 
housekeeping  without  the  aid  of  a  justice 
of  the  peace.  Tennessee's  Partner  took  the 
loss  of  his  wife  simply  and  seriously,  as  was 
his  fashion.  But  to  everybody's  surprise, 
when  Tennessee  one  day  returned  from 
Marysville,  without  his  partner's  wife,— she 
having  smiled  and  retreated  with  somebody 
else,— Tennessee's  Partner  was  the  first  man 
to  shake  his  hand  and  greet  him  with  affec 
tion.  The  boys  who  had  gathered  in  the 

57 


BRET  HARTE 

canon  to  see  the  shooting  were  naturally 
indignant.  Their  indignation  might  have 
found  vent  in  sarcasm  but  for  a  certain  look 
in  Tennessee's  Partner's  eye  that  indicated 
a  lack  of  humorous  appreciation.  In  fad:,  he 
was  a  grave  man,  with  a  steady  application 
to  practical  detail  which  was  unpleasant  in 
a  difficulty. 

Meanwhile  a  popular  feeling  against  Ten 
nessee  had  grown  up  on  the  Bar.  He  was 
known  to  be  a  gambler ;  he  was  suspedled 
to  be  a  thief.  In  these  suspicions  Tennessee's 
Partner  was  equally  compromised;  his  con 
tinued  intimacy  with  Tennessee  after  the 
affair  above  quoted  could  only  be  accounted 
for  on  the  hypothesis  of  a  copartnership  of 
crime.  At  last  Tennessee's  guilt  became  fla 
grant.  One  day  he  overtook  a  stranger  on 
his  way  to  Red  Dog.  The  stranger  after 
ward  related  that  Tennessee  beguiled  the 
time  with  interesting  anecdote  and  remin 
iscence,  but  illogically  concluded  the  inter 
view  in  the  following  words:  "And  now, 
young  man,  I  '11  trouble  you  for  your  knife, 
your  pistols,  and  your  money.  You  see  your 
weppings  might  get  you  into  trouble  at  Red 

58 


TENNESSEE'S  PARTNER 

Dog,  and  your  money's  a  temptation  to  the 
evilly  disposed.  I  think  you  said  your  address 
was  San  Francisco.  I  shall  endeavor  to  call/' 
It  may  be  stated  here  that  Tennessee  had  a 
fine  flow  of  humor,  which  no  business  pre 
occupation  could  wholly  subdue. 

This  exploit  was  his  last.  Red  Dog  and 
Sandy  Bar  made  common  cause  against  the 
highwayman.  Tennessee  was  hunted  in  very 
much  the  same  fashion  as  his  prototype,  the 
grizzly.  As  the  toils  closed  around  him,  he 
made  a  desperate  dash  through  the  Bar,  emp 
tying  his  revolver  at  the  crowd  before  the 
Arcade  Saloon, and  so  on  up  Grizzly  Canon; 
but  at  its  farther  extremity  he  was  stopped 
by  a  small  man  on  a  gray  horse.  The  men 
looked  at  each  other  a  moment  in  silence. 
Both  were  fearless,  both  self-possessed  and 
independent,  and  both  types  of  a  civilization 
that  in  the  seventeenth  century  would  have 
been  called  heroic,  but  in  the  nineteenth 
simply  "reckless."  "What  have  you  got 
there? — I  call,"  said  Tennessee  quietly. 
"  Two  bowers  and  an  ace,"  said  the  strang 
er  as  quietly,  showing  two  revolvers  and  a 
bowie-knife.  "That  takes  me,"  returned 

59 


BRET  HARTE 

Tennessee;  and,  with  this  gambler's  epi 
gram,  he  threw  away  his  useless  pistol  and 
rode  back  with  his  captor. 

It  was  a  warm  night.  The  cool  breeze  which 
usually  sprang  up  with  the  going  down  of 
the  sun  behind  the  chaparral-crested  moun 
tain  was  that  evening  withheld  from  Sandy 
Bar.  The  little  canon  was  stifling  with  heated 
resinous  odors,  and  the  decaying  driftwood 
on  the  Bar  sent  forth  faint  sickening  exhala 
tions.  The  feverishness  of  day  and  its  fierce 
passions  still  filled  the  camp.  Lights  moved 
restlessly  along  the  bank  of  the  river,  striking 
no  answering  reflection  from  its  tawny  cur 
rent.  Against  the  blackness  of  the  pines  the 
windows  of  the  old  loft  above  the  express-of 
fice  stood  out  staringly  bright;  and  through 
their  curtainless  panes  the  loungers  below 
could  see  the  forms  of  those  who  were  even 
then  deciding  the  fate  of  Tennessee.  And 
above  all  this,  etched  on  the  dark  firma 
ment,  rose  the  Sierra,  remote  and  passionless, 
crowned  with  remoter  passionless  stars. 

The  trial  of  Tennessee  was  conducted  as 
fairly  as  was  consistent  with  a  judge  and  jury 
who  felt  themselves  to  some  extent  obliged 

60 


TENNESSEE'S  PARTNER 

to  justify,  in  their  verdicl:,  the  previous  irreg 
ularities  of  arrest  and  indictment.  The  law 
of  Sandy  Bar  was  implacable,  but  not  venge 
ful.  The  excitement  and  personal  feeling  of 
the  chase  were  over;  with  Tennessee  safe  in 
their  hands,  they  were  ready  to  listen  patiently 
to  any  defense,  which  they  were  already  sat 
isfied  was  insufficient.  There  being  no  doubt 
in  their  own  minds,  they  were  willing  to  give 
the  prisoner  the  benefit  of  any  that  might 
exist.  Secure  in  the  hypothesis  that  he  ought 
to  be  hanged  on  general  principles,  they  in 
dulged  him  with  more  latitude  of  defense 
than  his  reckless  hardihood  seemed  to  ask. 
The  Judge  appeared  to  be  more  anxious  than 
the  prisoner,  who,  otherwise  unconcerned, 
evidently  took  a  grim  pleasure  in  the  respons 
ibility  he  had  created.  "I  don't  take  any  hand 
in  this  yer  game/ '  had  been  his  invariable  but 
good-humored  reply  to  all  questions.  The 
Judge— who  was  also  his  captor— for  a  mo 
ment  vaguely  regretted  that  he  had  not  shot 
him  "on  sight"  that  morning,  but  presently 
dismissed  this  human  weakness  as  unworthy 
of  the  judicial  mind.  Nevertheless,  when 
there  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  it  was  said 

61 


BRET  HARTE 

that  Tennessee's  Partner  was  there  on  behalf 
of  the  prisoner,  he  was  admit  ted  at  once  with 
out  question.  Perhaps  the  younger  members 
of  the  jury,  to  whom  the  proceedings  were 
becoming  irksomely  thoughtful,  hailed  him 
as  a  relief. 

For  he  was  not,  certainly,  an  imposing  fig 
ure.  Short  and  stout,  with  a  square  face,  sun 
burned  into  a  preternatural  redness,  clad  in 
a  loose  duck  "jumper  "  and  trousers  streaked 
and  splashed  with  red  soil,  his  aspect  under 
any  circumstances  would  have  been  quaint, 
and  was  now  even  ridiculous.  As  he  stooped 
to  deposit  at  his  feet  a  heavy  carpetbag  he 
was  carrying,  it  became  obvious,  from  par 
tially  developed  legends  and  inscriptions,  that 
the  material  with  which  his  trousers  had 
been  patched  had  been  originally  intended 
for  a  less  ambitious  covering.  Yet  he  advanced 
with  great  gravity,  and  after  shaking  the  hand 
of  each  person  in  the  room  with  labored  cor 
diality,  he  wiped  his  serious  perplexed  face 
on  a  red  bandanna  handkerchief,  a  shade 
lighter  than  his  complexion,  laid  his  power 
ful  hand  upon  the  table  to  steady  himself, 
and  thus  addressed  the  Judge: — 

62 


TENNESSEE'S  PARTNER 

"I  was  passin'  by,"  he  began,  by  way  of 
apology,  "and  I  thought  I'd  just  step  in  and 
see  how  things  was  gittin'  on  with  Tennes 
see  thar,— my  pardner.  It's  a  hot  night.  I 
disremember  any  sich  weather  before  on  the 
Bar." 

He  paused  a  moment,  but  nobody  volun 
teering  any  other  meteorological  recolleo 
tion,heagainhadrecoursetohispocket-hand- 
kerchief,  and  for  some  moments  mopped  his 
face  diligently. 

"Have  you  anything  to  say  on  behalf  of 
the  prisoner?"  said  the  Judge  finally. 

"Thet's  it,"  said  Tennessee's  Partner,  in  a 
tone  of  relief.  "I  come  yar  as  Tennessee's 
pardner, — knowing  him  nigh  on  four  year, 
off  and  on,  wet  and  dry,  in  luck  and  out  o' 
luck.  His  ways  ain't  aller  my  ways,  but  thar 
ain't  any  p'ints  in  that  young  man,  thar  ain't 
any  liveliness  as  he 's  been  up  to,  as  I  don't 
know.  And  you  sez  to  me,  sez  you, — confi- 
dential-like,  and  between  man  and  man, — 
sez  you,  'Do  you  know  anything  in  his  be 
half?'  and  I  sez  to  you,  sez  I,— confidential- 
like,  as  between  man  and  man,— 'What 
should  a  man  know  of  his  pardner?' ' 

63 


BRET  HARTE 

"Is  this  all  you  have  to  say?"  asked  the 
Judge  impatiently,  feeling,  perhaps,  that  a 
dangerous  sympathy  of  humor  was  begin 
ning  to  humanize  the  court. 

"Thet's  so,"  continued  Tennessee's  Part 
ner.  "It  ain't  for  me  to  say  anything  agin' 
him.  And  now,  what's  the  case?  Here's 
Tennessee  wants  money,  wants  it  bad,  and 
does  n't  like  to  ask  it  of  his  old  pardner.  Well, 
what  does  Tennessee  do  ?  He  lays  for  a  strang 
er,  and  he  fetches  that  stranger;  and  you  lays 
for  >^//^,and  you  fetches  him;  and  the  honors 
is  easy.  And  I  put  it  to  you,bein'  a  fa'r-minded 
man,  and  to  you,  gentlemen  all,  as  fa'r-mind 
ed  men, ef  this  isn't  so." 

"Prisoner,"  said  the  Judge,  interrupting, 
"  have  you  any  questions  to  ask  this  man  ? " 

"  No  !  no  !  "  continued  Tennessee's  Part 
ner  hastily.  "I  play  this  yer  hand  alone.  To 
come  down  to  the  bed-rock,  it's  just  this : 
Tennessee,  thar,  has  played  it  pretty  rough 
and  expensive-like  on  a  stranger,  and  on  this 
yer  camp.  And  now,  what 's  the  fair  thing  ? 
Some  would  say  more,  some  would  say  less. 
Here 's  seventeen  hundred  dollars  in  coarse 
gold  and  a  watch, — it 's  about  all  my  pile, — 

64 


TENNESSEE'S  PARTNER 

and  call  it  square ! "  And  before  a  hand  could 
be  raised  to  prevent  him,  he  had  emptied  the 
contents  of  the  carpetbag  upon  the  table. 

For  a  moment  his  life  was  in  jeopardy. 
One  or  two  men  sprang  to  their  feet,  several 
hands  groped  for  hidden  weapons,  and  a  sug 
gestion  to  "throw  him  from  the  window" 
was  only  overridden  by  a  gesture  from  the 
Judge.  Tennessee  laughed.  And  apparently 
oblivious  of  the  excitement,  Tennessee's 
Partner  improved  the  opportunity  to  mop 
his  face  again  with  his  handkerchief. 

When  order  was  restored,  and  the  man  was 
made  to  understand,  by  the  use  of  forcible 
figures  and  rhetoric,  that  Tennessee's  offense 
could  not  be  condoned  by  money,  his  face 
took  a  more  serious  and  sanguinary  hue,  and 
those  who  were  nearest  to  him  noticed  that 
his  rough  hand  trembled  slightly  on  the  ta 
ble.  He  hesitated  a  moment  as  he  slowly  re 
turned  the  gold  to  the  carpetbag,  as  if  he  had 
not  yet  entirely  caught  the  elevated  sense  of 
justice  which  swayed  the  tribunal,  and  was 
perplexed  with  the  belief  that  he  had  not  of 
fered  enough.  Then  he  turned  to  the  Judge, 
and  saying,  "This  yer  is  a  lone  hand,  played 

65 


BRET  HARTE 


alone,  and  without  my  pardner,"  he  bowed 
to  the  jury  and  was  about  to  withdraw,  when 
the  Judge  called  him  back: — 

"  If  you  have  anything  to  say  to  Tennessee, 
you  had  better  say  it  now/' 

For  the  first  time  that  evening  the  eyes  of 
the  prisoner  and  his  strange  advocate  met. 
Tennessee  smiled,  showed  his  white  teeth, 
and  saying,  "Euchred,  old  man!"  held  out 
his  hand.  Tennessee's  Partner  took  it  in  his 
own,  and  saying,"  I  just  dropped  in  as  I  was 
passin'  to  see  how  things  was  gettin'  on,"  let 
the  hand  passively  fall,  and  adding  that  "it 
was  a  warm  night,"  again  mopped  his  face 
with  his  handkerchief,  and  without  another 
word  withdrew. 

The  two  men  never  again  met  each  other 
alive.  For  the  unparalleled  insult  of  a  bribe 
offered  to  Judge  Lynch — who,  whether  big 
oted,  weak,  or  narrow,  was  at  least  incorrupt 
ible—firmly  fixed  in  the  mind  of  that  mythi 
cal  personage  any  wavering  determination 
of  Tennessee's  fate;  and  at  the  break  of  day 
he  was  marched,  closely  guarded,  to  meet  it 
at  the  top  of  Marley's  Hill. 

How  he  met  it,  how  cool  he  was,  how  he 

66 


TENNESSEE'S  PARTNER 

refused  to  say  anything,  how  perfect  were 
the  arrangements  of  the  committee,  were  all 
duly  reported,  with  the  addition  of  a  warn 
ing  moral  and  example  to  all  future  evil-do- 
ers,in  the  "Red  Dog  Clarion/'  by  its  editor, 
who  was  present,  and  to  whose  vigorous 
English  I  cheerfully  refer  the  reader.  But 
the  beauty  of  that  midsummer  morning,  the 
blessed  amity  of  earth  and  air  and  sky,  the 
awakened  life  of  the  free  woods  and  hills, 
the  joyous  renewal  and  promise  of  Nature, 
and  above  all,  the  infinite  serenity  that 
thrilled  through  each,  was  not  reported,  as 
not  being  a  part  of  the  social  lesson.  And 
yet,  when  the  weak  and  foolish  deed  was 
done,  and  a  life,  with  its  possibilities  and  re 
sponsibilities,!^  passed  out  of  the  misshapen 
thing  that  dangled  between  earth  and  sky, 
the  birds  sang,  the  flowers  bloomed,  the  sun 
shone,  as  cheerily  as  before;  and  possibly  the 
"Red  Dog  Clarion "  was  right. 

Tennessee's  Partner  was  not  in  the  group 
that  surrounded  the  ominous  tree.  But  as 
they  turned  to  disperse,  attention  was  drawn 
to  the  singular  appearance  of  a  motionless 
donkey-cart  halted  at  the  side  of  the  road. 

67 


BRET  HARTE 

As  they  approached,  they  at  once  recognized 
the  venerable  "Jenny  "  and  the  two-wheeled 
cart  as  the  property  of  Tennessee's  Partner, 
used  by  him  in  carrying  dirt  from  his  claim ; 
and  a  few  paces  distant  the  owner  of  the  equi 
page  himself,  sitting  under  a  buckeye-tree, 
wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  glowing 
face.  In  answer  to  an  inquiry,  he  said  he  had 
come  for  the  body  of  the  "diseased,"  "if  it 
was  all  the  same  to  the  committee."  He 
didn't  wish  to  "hurry  anything";  he  could 
"wait."  He  was  not  working  that  day;  and 
when  the  gentlemen  were  done  with  the  "dis 
eased,"  he  would  take  him.  "Ef  thar  is  any 
present,"  he  added,in  his  simple,serious  way, 
"as  would  care  to  jine  in  the  fun'l,they  kin 
come."  Perhaps  itwasfrom  a  sense  of  humor, 
which  I  have  already  intimated  was  a  feature 
of  Sandy  Bar, — perhaps  it  was  from  some 
thing  even  better  than  that,  but  two-thirds  of 
the  loungers  accepted  the  invitation  at  once. 
It  was  noon  when  the  body  of  Tennessee 
was  delivered  into  the  hands  of  his  partner. 
As  the  cart  drew  up  to  the  fatal  tree,  we  no 
ticed  that  it  contained  a  rough  oblong  box, — 
apparently  made  from  a  section  of  sluic- 

68 


TENNESSEE'S  PARTNER 

ing, — and  half  filled  with  bark  and  the  tassels 
of  pine.  The  cart  was  further  decorated  with 
slips  of  willow  and  made  fragrant  with  buck 
eye-blossoms.  When  the  body  was  deposited 
in  the  box,  Tennessee's  Partner  drew  over  it 
a  piece  of  tarred  canvas,  and  gravely  mount 
ing  the  narrow  seat  in  front,  with  his  feet  up 
on  the  shafts,  urged  the  little  donkey  for  ward. 
The  equipage  moved  slowly  on,  at  that  de 
corous  pace  which  was  habitual  with  Jenny 
even  under  less  solemn  circumstances.  The 
men — half  curiously,  half  jestingly,  but  all 
good-humoredly — strolled  along  beside  the 
cart,  some  in  advance,  some  a  little  in  the 
rear  of  the  homely  catafalque.  But  whether 
from  the  narrowing  of  the  road  or  some  pres 
ent  sense  of  decorum,  as  the  cart  passed  on, 
the  company  fell  to  the  rear  in  couples,  keep 
ing  step,  and  otherwise  assuming  the  exter 
nal  show  of  a  formal  procession.  Jack  Fol- 
insbee,  who  had  at  the  outset  played  a  funeral 
march  in  dumb  show  upon  an  imaginary 
trombone,  desisted  from  a  lack  of  sympathy 
and  appreciation, — not  having,perhaps,your 
true  humorist's  capacity  to  be  content  with 
the  enjoyment  of  his  own  fun. 

69 


BRET  HARTE 

The  way  led  through  Grizzly  Canon,  by 
this  time  clothed  in  funereal  drapery  and 
shadows.  The  redwoods,  burying  their  moc- 
casined  feet  in  the  red  soil,  stood  in  Indian  file 
along  the  track,  trailing  an  uncouth  benedic 
tion  from  their  bending  boughs  upon  the  pass 
ing  bier.  A  hare,  surprised  into  helpless  inac 
tivity,  sat  upright  and  pulsating  in  the  ferns 
by  the  roadside  as  the  cortege  went  by.  Squir 
rels  hastened  to  gain  a  secure  outlook  from 
higher  boughs;  and  the  blue-jays,  spreading 
their  wings,  fluttered  before  them  like  out 
riders,  until  the  outskirts  of  Sandy  Bar  were 
reached,  and  the  solitary  cabin  of  Tennes 
see's  Partner. 

Viewed  under  more  favorable  circum 
stances,  it  would  not  have  been  a  cheerful 
place.  The  unpicluresque  site,  the  rude  and 
unlovely  outlines,  the  unsavory  details, which 
distinguish  the  nest-building  of  the  Califor 
nia  miner,  were  all  here  with  the  dreariness 
of  decay  superadded.  A  few  paces  from  the 
cabin  there  was  a  rough  enclosure,  which, 
in  the  brief  days  of  Tennessee's  Partner's 
matrimonial  felicity,  had  been  used  as  a 
garden,  but  was  now  overgrown  with  fern. 

70 


TENNESSEE'S  PARTNER 

As  we  approached  it,  we  were  surprised  to 
find  that  what  we  had  taken  for  a  recent 
attempt  at  cultivation  was  the  broken  soil 
about  an  open  grave. 

The  cart  was  halted  before  the  enclosure, 
and  rejecting  the  offers  of  assistance  with  the 
same  air  of  simple  self-reliance  he  had  dis 
played  throughout, Tennessee's  Partner  lift 
ed  the  rough  coffin  on  his  back,  and  depos 
ited  it  unaided  within  the  shallow  grave. 
He  then  nailed  down  the  board  which  served 
as  a  lid,  and  mounting  the  little  mound  of 
earth  beside  it,  took  off  his  hat  and  slowly 
mopped  his  face  with  his  handkerchief. 
This  the  crowd  felt  was  a  preliminary  to 
speech,  and  they  disposed  themselves  vari 
ously  on  stumps  and  boulders,  and  sat  ex- 
pedtant. 

"When  a  man,"  began  Tennessee's  Part 
ner  slowly,  "has  been  running  free  all  day, 
what's  the  natural  thing  for  him  to  do?  Why, 
to  come  home.  And  if  he  ain't  in  a  condi 
tion  to  go  home,  what  can  his  best  friend 
do?  Why,  bring  him  home.  And  here's 
Tennessee  has  been  running  free,  and  we 
brings  him  home  from  his  wandering."  He 

71 


V 


BRET  HARTE 

paused  and  picked  up  a  fragment  of  quartz, 
rubbed  it  thoughtfully  on  his  sleeve,  and 
went  on:  "It  ain't  the  first  time  that  I've 
packed  him  on  my  back,  as  you  see'd  me  now. 
It  ain't  the  first  time  that  I  brought  him  to 
this  yer  cabin  when  he  couldn't  help  him 
self;  it  ain't  the  first  time  that  I  and  Jinny 
have  waited  for  him  on  yon  hill,  and  picked 
him  up  and  so  fetched  him  home,  when  he 
couldn't  speak  and  didn't  know  me.  And 
now  that  it 's  the  last  time,  why ' '—he  paused 
and  rubbed  the  quartz  gently  on  his  sleeve— 
"  you  see  it 's  sort  of  rough  on  his  pardner. 
And  now,  gentlemen,"  he  added  abruptly, 
picking  up  his  long-handled  shovel,  "the 
fun'l  's  over ;  and  my  thanks,  and  Tennes 
see's  thanks,  to  you  for  your  trouble." 

Resisting  any  proffers  of  assistance,  he  be 
gan  to  fill  in  the  grave,  turning  his  back 
upon  the  crowd,  that  after  a  few  moments' 
hesitation  gradually  withdrew.  As  they 
crossed  the  little  ridge  that  hid  Sandy  Bar 
from  view,  some,  looking  back,  thought 
they  could  see  Tennessee's  Partner,  his  work 
done,  sitting  upon  the  grave,  his  shovel  be 
tween  his  knees,  and  his  face  buried  in  his 


TENNESSEE'S  PARTNER 

red  bandanna  handkerchief.  But  it  was  ar 
gued  by  others  that  you  could  n't  tell  his 
face  from  his  handkerchief  at  that  distance, 
and  this  point  remained  undecided. 

In  the  reaction  that  followed  the  feverish 
excitement  of  that  day,  Tennessee's  Partner 
was  not  forgotten.  A  secret  investigation  had 
cleared  him  of  any  complicity  in  Tennes 
see's  guilt,  and  left  only  a  suspicion  of  his 
general  sanity.  Sandy  Bar  made  a  point  of 
calling  on  him,  and  proffering  various  un 
couth  but  well-meant  kindnesses.  But  from 
that  day  his  rude  health  and  great  strength 
seemed  visibly  to  decline;  and  when  the 
rainy  season  fairly  set  in,  and  the  tiny  grass- 
blades  were  beginning  to  peep  from  the 
rocky  mound  above  Tennessee's  grave,  he 
took  to  his  bed. 

One  night,  when  the  pines  beside  the  cabin 
were  swaying  in  the  storm  and  trailing  their 
slender  fingers  over  the  roof,  and  the  roar 
and  rush  of  the  swollen  river  were  heard 
below,  Tennessee's  Partner  lifted  his  head 
from  the  pillow,  saying, "  It  is  time  to  go  for 
Tennessee;  I  must  put  Jinny  in  the  cart;" 
and  would  have  risen  from  his  bed  but  for 

73 


BRET  HARTE 

the  restraint  of  his  attendant.  Struggling,  he 
still  pursued  his  singular  fancy :  "There,now, 
steady,  Jinny,— steady ,  old  girl.  How  dark 
it  is !  Look  out  for  the  ruts, —  and  look  out 
for  him,  too,  old  gal.  Sometimes,you  know, 
when  he 's  blind  drunk,  he  drops  down  right 
in  the  trail.  Keep  on  straight  up  to  the  pine 
on  the  top  of  the  hill.  Thar!  I  told  you  so! — 
thar  he  is, —  coming  this  way,  too, —  all  by 
himself,  sober,  and  his  face  a-shining.  Ten 
nessee  !  Pardner ! " 
And  so  they  met. 


74 


TWO   HUNDRED  AND   SIXTY  COPIES 

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